


His Gift

by SpangleBangle



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Andrew POV, Character Study, Denial of Feelings, First Kiss, Getting Together, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 02:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10957878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpangleBangle/pseuds/SpangleBangle
Summary: As a crowning glory to why Neil motherfucking Josten was a Problem with a capital P, he’d sat there this afternoon and offered his precious hoard of money, his opportunity to run, his next persona and life, and offered it so Andrew could waste it on another overpriced gasoline monstrosity. Simply because Neil knew it was important to Andrew.An alternate take on how their first kiss might have happened differently.





	His Gift

So I saw [this fantastic piece of art by enotrobin](http://enotrobin.tumblr.com/post/160876423542/bee-neils-blood-went-cold-what-did-you-tell) and got very Extra about the pose and the 'missing' scene where Neil gives Andrew the money for the Maserati. 

* * *

 

_I’ll bring the money by your room later,_ Neil had said, with that way of looking for a bit too long that he had, that way of feeling so at ease in Andrew’s company he would happily steal his cigarettes back and forth without fear of reprisal. And that way of looking so at home, so perfectly at home, sitting on a car bonnet with Andrew in the growing sunset, smoke breathed back and forth with each little deal brokered and negotiated. And _especially_ that way of understanding, of seeing balances where others saw demands, of seeing reason behind action and thought behind words.

Neil fucking Josten.

Andrew scoffed quietly to himself as he stared out at the pink-tinged sky, staring full into the setting sun without a care for his eyesight or the pain in his temples. He was sat cross-legged on the desk by the window, fingers absently picking at the remnants of the safety screen. He was waiting.

A young man like Neil fucking Josten had no right to be so… _that_. To be so much. To be the ears listening so hard for the whispered admissions under each snarling threat. To be the eyes that saw pain hiding behind apathy. To be the hands that skirted so close, all the time, to touching but never crossing that boundary. To be the force uniting this godforsaken team and pulling at him too, whether he wanted it or not. To be the sharp-edged reason to stand and fight.

He had no right, his whole being a bundle of lies, to speak so eloquently in painful truths. To give, and give, and give those truths simply because Andrew wanted them. He had no right, his body a pathetic testament to cruelty, to offer hope and kindness to someone hurting. To cover him with a sheet when there was really no point, simply because he knew how Andrew felt about vulnerability. He had no right, a man startled by keys and solidarity, to so easily offer money to a man with less than nothing to his name or future. To offer to help replace the only possession that really meant anything to a man scarred by apathy, simply because it had meant _something_.

Andrew missed his car, he could admit that. His beautiful GS bought with Tilda’s death. Driving that car had been like the first free breath out of juvie, like getting his own room with a lock on the door at Nicky’s house, like getting off with someone on his own terms for the first time. That seat behind the wheel was his thinking space, his control, his protection, his power tightly controlled. It was his autonomy and freedom to go where he wanted, whenever he wanted.

When they’d found the cars vandalised, he hadn’t blinked. When he’d seen the horror made of _his_ car, he had done very little. He had stood and assessed the visible damage, taking grim inventory. He’d looked at the mangled fox corpse and smashed windows, at the slashed seats spilling stuffing, at the splintered dash and sound system, at the garbage piled where his family sat, at the tyres hacked and deflated and useless.

And he’d thought about years of buckling under blows, accepting the neglect, resigning himself to the pain, trying not to fight back, taking it out on himself when it all became too much. He’d looked at the invasion and desecration of _his fucking car_ and wondered briefly why Renee’s God was so hellbent on taking away the precious little victories he managed to scrap together.

And then Neil, Neil _fucking_ Josten, went and did it. He just went and caught on and pulled back on the ropes binding them together, finally seeing them. He did _that_. He talked Andrew down and stopped him from doing something he might possibly regret later. He got a goddamn clue about him and Aaron and pressed the unholy advantage hard enough to make it splinter.

It had been like hearing his own voice echoed back from behind the mirror.

As a crowning glory to why Neil motherfucking Josten was a Problem with a capital P, he’d sat there this afternoon and offered his precious hoard of money, his opportunity to run, his next persona and life, and offered it so Andrew could waste it on another overpriced gasoline monstrosity. Simply because Neil knew it was important to Andrew.

Well, not entirely for free and not entirely altruistically, no, but they both knew the spirit behind the offer. _You don’t need a third addiction,_ Neil had reasoned about the cracker dust. Because he had the gall to care about Andrew’s health. To think about him in the long-term and past just what Andrew could do for him. To think about him, and want to help.

A man with so few pieces of himself to hold together shouldn’t go around caring about other people’s incomplete armfuls.

Because why? Why was Andrew so worth that? He knew he wasn’t. He knew his strengths. Andrew was a half-starved guard dog to those around him, nothing more and nothing less. He was very good at being the shield, the violent threat and showy distraction. It was what made him useful, what gave him reason to stay and stay and stay through the boredom. He had no capacity for greatness, for fame or glory or goodness or whatever it was Neil and Kevin wanted from him. It wasn’t for him. Nothing like that was for him.

But Neil. Neil fucking Josten. He just kept trying to help, for no real reason Andrew could see. He kept trying to care.

_Well, AJ_ , he told himself as he took a deep breath. _Looks like you’re royally fucking fucked._

A quick knock on the door neatly distracted him from that unhelpful conclusion.

“Come in,” he called tonelessly and sat up a bit straighter on the desk. He heard Neil’s light footsteps and the careful click of the door locking behind him.

“I’ve got the money,” Neil said calmly. “If I’m not interrupting you.”

“Well I’m very busy, as you can see.”

Neil snorted quietly. Andrew tugged his aching eyes away from the sunset and spun on his ass so he was facing Neil. He blinked sunspots out of his vision and watched the lurid, smeary after-images blur over Neil until he resolved into a solid fixture, looking at ease and almost too-sharp in the vibrant light. It made his skin luminous, his eyes startlingly pale, his hair turned to fire. It made his slouchy hoodie and sweatpants look soft and warm instead of scruffy.

Neil fucking Josten.

Andrew settled his legs and rested his hands on his ankles. Neil met his eyes for a long moment, like a hello, and reached into his hoodie pocket. He withdrew a few handfuls of carefully rolled-up bills. He held them out and Andrew tried hard not to think of offerings on an altar, prayers to appease the terrifying invisibilities, bargains for safety. He was no monster, no god or king on a throne to be satiated by something like this.

But it was, unmistakeably, an offering.

Andrew glanced at the empty space by his knee and Neil stepped closer on light feet. Andrew watched him take each step with eyes firmly locked, wondering if Neil was thinking along similar lines or if he was just bored and planning new drills for practice with Kevin later. Andrew wondered if Neil thought about him often, and what those thoughts felt like.

Neil placed each lucrative cylinder gently on the desk by Andrew’s knee and Andrew counted them in a glance before finding Neil’s eyes again.

“This is more than we agreed,” he said quietly, not quite a challenge or accusation but definitely something.

“Did we settle on a number?” Neil asked with an entirely fake innocence. “I’m not familiar with car prices, so sorry. Where is everyone?”

“Just little old me,” Andrew replied with a quick flick of his eyebrows. “Everyone else is out.” His teeth clacked on the final syllable, sharp as a bullet between the teeth. “Why did you bring so much?”

The false levity bled away from Neil’s face until there was a heavy stillness in the droop of his eyelids and slackness of his cheeks, hanging off his cheekbones in sharp relief. His mouth softened, turning down at the corners, lips growing fuller as he released the unconscious tension in his jaw.

_Ah_ , Andrew thought, _here comes the reluctant honesty._

“Because I want you to have that much,” Neil said quietly. “Because you bought that GS years ago and that model will have devalued. Because maybe I think you deserve an upgrade instead of a straight replacement.”

Andrew breathed in his truth and breathed out his own tangled wants.

“And what better way to aggravate Riko than to help me benefit from his vandalism, hm?” He replied. “You’ve been spending too much time with the moneybags down the hall.”

“It’s not always about Riko.”

“There’s a shocker, coming from you.”

“Maybe,” Neil allowed. “But this isn’t about Riko. This is about what you deserve.”

Andrew leaned closer to him and spoke in a slow whisper. “You can take your pity, take your charity too, and shove it up your ass.”

Neil’s lips twitched. “But I thought we had a deal. My money for your continued sobriety.”

“Not that much money.” _I am not worth this much._

“It’s certainly no use to me,” Neil said with a little shrug. “I’ll only use it to run and break my promises. It’s probably better for everyone if you hold onto the excess for me.”

Andrew lifted a hand to point at the money. “That is nearly all your stash.”

“I’m aware.”

Andrew narrowed his eyes and reached out before he could stop himself to hold the front of Neil’s hoodie, pulling him just a bit closer. With him sitting on the desk, they were at eye-level for once. It was nice not having to look up at everyone except his twin for a change.

“This is an unequal exchange,” Andrew said. “What are you after?”

“Nothing. It’s meant as a gift.”

“Why.” The word came out flat with anger and bitten-off edges.

Neil’s eyes were pale and heavy on Andrew’s, comfortable with the extended contact and easy with whatever Andrew might see in them. His lips pursed for just a second before he spoke in a low, soft voice full of far too much. “Because you deserve to receive without having to give. Because I don’t want to always be taking from you.”

“Stop,” Andrew said harshly and held his hand just over Neil’s mouth, close enough to feel the heat of his skin without touching.

Neil fucking Josten. It just wasn’t fair. Threats weren’t supposed to come in such intriguing and pretty packaging. And he was a threat of the worst kind.

“For someone so hung up on honesty, you don’t like it much when you hear it,” Neil observed softly, his breath tickling Andrew’s palm.

“Can you blame me if I distrust any word that comes out of your mouth?”

“Not entirely,” Neil sighed. His breath was warm and damp. His chin brushed accidentally against Andrew’s hand as he spoke. “But I’ve been hoping I’d been showing my trustworthiness these days.”

“I’d be foolish in the extreme to trust you any more than superficially.”

“Very,” Neil agreed with a lift of his eyebrows. “Same for me too. But we’ve been trying anyway, haven’t we?”

Andrew realised he had moved closer, leaning in, drawn further with each word until they were nearly touching. His hand was the only thing separating their faces. Their breaths mingled in the gaps between his fingers, curled invisibly around each other. He was standing over a fall, could feel the pull of gravity and vertigo and the rapid step of his pulse. He didn’t know if he wanted to jump or lurch back, and the indecision was a hot flare in his stomach.

“It’s why I’m dangerous to you,” Neil continued softly. “And why you’re dangerous to me.”

“What do you want from me, Neil,” Andrew asked. He meant it to be a demand, careless, unfeeling, but his voice betrayed him in a slow whisper.

He heard Neil swallow, a nervous tic and the only sign Neil was as compromised as Andrew.

“Nothing you wouldn’t give,” Neil replied in an intimate murmur. Andrew closed his eyes and inched closer despite himself as a shiver rolled down his back. “Nothing you didn’t want. Nothing at all, if it comes right down to it.”

“You aren’t real,” Andrew mused, feeling his lips against his own knuckles. “You are a pipe dream.”

“I’m real,” Neil assured him. “And I’m right here. What’s stopping you from asking for something you want?”

“I thought you didn’t swing?” Andrew returned with a mocking edge to the words.

“I don’t know. And I don’t know what this is or what we are to each other but I don’t think uncertainty is a good enough reason to ignore it,” Neil said.

Andrew opened his eyes just enough to watch Neil’s face. “It was a good enough reason right up until now.”

_What changed?_ His eyes asked. _Why now?_

“This afternoon, I realised I wanted to give,” Neil replied simply. “And I want to give to you.”

Andrew scoffed to hide himself, a puff of breath between them. His hand pressed down, over Neil’s lips, warm and damp and far too tempting.

“ _This_ ,” he mocked quietly, unsure if it was directed at himself or Neil. “ _This_ is nothing. This is physical frustration and nothing more. This is distraction and stupidity on both our parts.”

“Probably,” Neil agreed with a slow blink. His mouth moved teasingly against Andrew’s fingers as he spoke, inviting and open.

“I hate you.”

Neil had the audacity to _smile_. “Nine percent of the time you don’t.”

“Nine percent of the time I don’t want to kill you. I always hate you.”

“Every time you say that I believe you a little less.”

“No one asked you.”

“Ask me.”

Heat jolted down Andrew’s spine. He lowered his hand cautiously and let himself hold the edge of Neil’s jaw instead. His eyes were intense, shining with want and far too pretty.

“Andrew, ask me.”

The seconds stretched as they stared each other down, waiting and waiting for common sense to return and stop this before they lost themselves completely.

But they couldn’t wait forever.

“Yes,” Andrew asked slowly, gaze sliding down to Neil’s parted lips. “Or no?”

“Yes,” Neil breathed.

The noise Neil made when their mouths met was somewhere between a gasp and a groan and it was everything unbearable. Andrew kissed him harder to erase the memory of such vulnerability but it was lodged in his brain forever. He kissed Neil with all the frustration of the past months, with all the fire in him to shut out the whispers that he didn’t deserve this, that they shouldn’t do this, that Andrew was never allowed to get the things he wanted. No, the world shrank and grew to just their lips, the back and forth of their breath, the electrifying slide of a tongue against his own and hot skin under his hand.

It wasn’t fair, he thought dazedly. Kissing wasn’t supposed to feel like this. It was just supposed to be vaguely enjoyable, a prelude to whatever came next, a warmup. It wasn’t supposed to feel like all the meaning in the world was hidden somewhere under Neil’s tongue, that the scrape of teeth along his lower lip was the master control of his heartrate, as if this were the irrefutable answer to questions he couldn’t remember asking. This was everything, this was too much, this was not nearly enough.

Andrew fisted a hand in Neil’s hoodie and pulled him closer with a harsh noise of his own, needing more, craving more, feeling starved and gorged all at once. Neil moaned again and melted into him, pliant and willing and easy under his hands and lips. Andrew chased his tongue and sucked mercilessly on Neil’s lower lip.

There was a touch on his arm, quickly aborted.

Andrew opened his eyes and pulled back, uncaring that his lips must be swollen and wet with shared saliva. Neil held his hands up and grimaced in apology.

“Pockets,” Andrew demanded.

Neil obliged and tucked them out of sight without protest. Andrew watched the spot they’d disappeared to for a long moment, trying not to dwell on aggravating thoughts like _he knows my boundaries_ or _this could work_ or _fuck I want him_ or _this is going to end horribly but fuck it._

“I won’t,” Neil promised with a breathless hush to his voice. “I won’t be like them. I promise.”

Neil _fucking_ Josten.

“Ninety two percent. Going on ninety three.”

Neil grinned, shy teeth all on show and eyes twinkling and Andrew knew he was about to make some smartass comment – but Andrew had just found a very effective way to stop that incessant mouth. He pulled and Neil complied, giving and giving and giving with sweet abandon.

It was dangerous, it was torturous, and it surely couldn’t last… but for now, he could have it. He could hold tight and receive the gift. He might not want to let go – but that was a problem for another day.


End file.
